Tears Have Sung
by Xaviera Xylira
Summary: Contains instructions on how to take over the world using only a few Malatov Cocktails, an army of alpaca farmers, pineapples, and your kid brother. Except not, because we don't want to give away my grand plot...


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A/N: Draco/Ginny, post-Hogwarts. Draco has been out of Ginny's life for a while now. He left her for reasons unknown to her, and just when she thought they had a strong thing going, too. Now, some years later, Draco finds her singing in a pub (most likely somewhere in Hogsmeade). This is a one-time fic thing and it's sad. My summaries suck, did you know that? Sorry about the weird spacing of the lyrics, it's all my computer's fault. And in case my subtlety isn't clear enough: Draco left a suicide note, and that's why there's a funeral mentioned and stuff. But Draco didn't really commit suicide. He left Ginny because his job required it. What was his job? Why, he was in the fight against Voldie, of course. Meaning that Gin would have gotten hurt if people knew they were connected. Plus, having Voldie thinking Draco is dead has certain advantages on Draco and the Ministry's part. But... just read the fic, okay? 

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Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me. Ginny's song ("Tears Have Sung"), however, does. Meaning I wrote it. Meaning it's not going to be very good. 

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Tears Have Sung

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Rain sings outside my window

And my soul rings out your name

That's all I have left to turn to now

That's all you've left unchanged

She had a beautiful voice. The kind of voice that could bring demons to tears. I don't know what she was doing in a local pub with a voice like that. 

I come here often to listen to her sing. She's become a local star; everyone knows her, everyone loves her, even though they only see her here. 

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Sun says a new day is dawning

Daisies smile with a thirst for life

But moon gives lonely sighs every night

And stars dive into her pool of strife

She looks like some sort of porcelain doll: fragile and delicate, but so lovely. Her red hair has golden tints in it from the lighting. She sings with such a sadness. She sings from the heart. 

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Time leaves me vulnerable 

Standing in the cutting wind

And the breeze shifts memories in my ear:

"He said he'd be with you 'til the end."

She's poised and strong, and she lets out every word with such a passion, such a complete understanding. There isn't one sound except for her song. 

I remember how she used to sing for me. Her songs were happier then, though. But that was so many years ago. I doubt she even remembers me anymore. 

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Didn't you say you'd stay with me?

Didn't you say it was love?

So why did you let me alone there

With no warning of leave to speak of?

I wonder who it is she sings about. She wrote the song herself; I wonder who her inspiration was.

I left her, too. I remember that day. I had to write the suicide note and leave it there for her. I hated doing it. I hated that I had to leave her all for the sake of my job. I watched her from the shadows as her hands trembled and she let the paper slip from her hands. Then she ran out of the apartment and sped to the bridge... 

I remember seeing her at my funeral. They, of course, couldn't find my body, being that I wasn't actually dead to begin with, but they didn't know that. I managed to stay hidden from view; it was gray and rainy that day, so a trench coat and a black umbrella provided the perfect guise. I really shouldn't have been there, but I needed to see her before I left. 

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Roses lying in the graveyard

Remind me that you're not here

And a few thorns are left to live with me

A painful reminder of what you were to me, dear

She glances at me, seeing me for the first time after all the countless nights I've come to watch her. For a moment I think I see her forget her song. 

She continues singing with every ounce of fervor she has in her, but she doesn't look away from me. This is the first time I get a chance to watch her eyes. 

I don't know how she noticed me; the corner I'm standing in is entirely dim, and I've had a lot of practice on being the inconspicuously shadowy figure, but with eyes like that I'd think she was almost counting on finding me here. 

Her eyes are so beautiful, yet so agonized. And as she stares at me I see the vicious memories growing ever vibrant in front of her. 

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Dark skies the color of your eyes

Overtake this life of mine

And the ghost of you keeps me in his arms

Your memory holds me a slave to my mind

If it weren't for the war, we'd still be together, still going strong. 

Or maybe it wouldn't have lasted. I don't know anymore. 

She was never like the other girls, though. She had something inside her that made her gorgeous. She was one of those people who could send your spirits soaring with a smile. And she loved _me_. 

And like a fool, I walked away willingly. 

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Silver lining around the storm clouds

Is an expression I use to describe my time with you

Because everything now is black and stormy

And the silver lining is no longer new

It's me. She's singing about me. 

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You deserve a life of love

I'm sorry I couldn't give enough to you

Wherever you are I hope to God you're happy

Because you deserve happiness more than I do

God knows I don't deserve her. I never did. I suppose that was part of what urged me to leave in the first place. Knowing that she could do so much better than me. 

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Tears have sung their tender grief

And love has flown from hope

But gentle spirit keeps me alive

And all your words of comfort I have rote 

The song ended and her hand fell limply to her side. She still stared at me, hurt etched across her graceful features. She recognized me. The applause was thunderous, and there were women sobbing from their seats, shaken with memories themselves, and there were even a few boys with roses for her, like this had been a concert. But she took no notice of anything. 

She looked like an angel with her wavy red locks coming down in soft tendrils around her creamy face. She looked fragile, as if one push would send her spiraling off the face of the planet. 

And as she turned around, a lone tear that no one but I saw streaking down her dazzling face, and she walked off the small wooden platform and into the back area where all the employees lounge. I watched her leave, and I knew that I'd never see her singing here again. I knew that it would be the last time I'd ever see her. I think she knew, too, that this would be her last song. And I think she knew I'd be here. She probably never believed the note in the first place. I bet she knew all along what was happening, but knew she couldn't stop it. 

And as all the stunned audients slowly filed out of the building or gradually turned to a conversation (most likely about the miracle of a girl that had just performed), I could have sworn I heard one last stanza: 

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I know you're still here somewhere 

Living among the dead

And I want you to know I still love you

And I will for all the lonely nights ahead.

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End file.
